Fablehaven Randomness
by Kytheres
Summary: If you've been missing the Fablehaven series, see Seth get whacked in the face, or just want to see what happens when the daily (school) lives of Seth and Kendra Sorenson get tangled with their adventures at Fablehaven, send a request! (Rated T, just in case)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer—I hate JB songs, but I had to look them up for this. I'm sorry you have to go through this on the first run-around. I apologize. (Because it goes along with the story, and… I can't say I couldn't help it. Next time I'll pick better music, cross my heart and hope to die and everything.) (Now if one of _you_ picks the song, I will not be blamed for anything.)

Hope you… like it… I guess… (If that's even possible with a beaver song….)

Randomness #1

Seth sat up in bed, trying to get the glare of the sun out of his eyes. It was another school day, and he… couldn't wait for school to end… He lay back down in bed. Juss five more minutes, Mom…

Kendra threw open his door and peered inside. "Seth!" she yelped when she saw him still in his pajamas. "Get up! We need to go to school!"

Seth peered up at her lazily. "That is the most clichéd line I've ever heard before something comes and eats our faces off."

Kendra started to close his door, but stopped and poked her head in. "Who's gonna get us, the big bad wolf?"

"Never say never," Seth yelped as his sister slammed the door shut.

Through the wall, he heard his sister muttering, "Please, never quote Justin Bieber ever again…"

Nothing _remotely _interesting happened at school—sure, they got a new transfer student—it was some Asian chick, yay, all the Japanese Club kids are going to love her because she's from Tokyo. Or was it Osaka? Same dif, whatever.

There was something that seemed a little off about another boy in his math class, not that it mattered all that much. He'd just lurch over and start acting like a hairball was going to come crawling up his throat. Second period was as boring as first—math, followed by—_technically_—more math (it was Chemistry, whatever)—and third period was History—or what Seth called European Lit because it was so boring—like British novels. _Snore._

After getting through Mrs. Bronson's terrible lecture on why Americans thought that it was their _destiny to cross the Universe spreading their stupid ideas because they are stupid_ (or so Seth thought), Seth shoved all his stuff in his locker and made his way to lunch. Kelsey and Will were already sitting at a table when Seth finally got to where the gross cafeteria food was, grabbed chocolate milk and some grapes (the only actual _good _thing in the cafeteria), and took a seat next to them.

After talking for about five minutes, Hairball-Boy walked into the room and started looking like he was going to throw up. Seth saw the changes before anybody else did. With his new Shadow Charmer abilities growing every day, it was getting impossible to ignore some very prominent changes in some of the students.

Honestly, Seth would have liked it better not seeing the changes in people. Never knowing what they truly were, underneath what he had thought was just skin and bone.

The boy fell down to his hands and knees, growling and howling in pain. Something split the butt of his jeans open and a long dark brown tail split out. Shagging brown hair burst all over his body, which was growing and contorting into some monstrous…

_Big freakin' bad wolf._

And Kendra doesn't even _have _this lunch, Seth thought angrily. Great. Now _I _have to deal with this moron.

Seth didn't want to walk over to Used-to-be-Hairball-Boy, but the wolf looked up at Seth, as if knowing what he truly was, and Seth started at Wolfy in plain-as-day fear.

The wolf lurched forward, racing across the room. Seth scrambled away, terrified. Some of the other kids ran out of the cafeteria screaming.

The wolf took a few swipes, and Seth put up his arms in defense. A strange feeling took hold of Seth's body, and he reached out and touched Wolfy's body. As if squeezing all the wolfishness out of the poor teenager's body and into his, Seth screamed, trying to pull his hand away. It wasn't working. As if it was stuck there, Seth's hand stayed were it was until the boy was completely back to normal.

The words to that stupid song came tumbling into his head.

See I never thought that I could walk through fire/ I never thought that I could take the burn/ I never had the strength to take it higher/ Until I reached the point of no return/ And there's just no turning back/ When your heart's under attack/ Gonna give everything I have/ It's my destiny…

No way in hell is it my destiny, Seth thought angrily. Out of sheer willpower, the wolf poison went out like pouring a flood over a tiny fire. Seth's mind went blank, and so did his mind.

The used-to-be wolf-boy stood staring at Seth, confused and concerned.

"What happened?" he asked to the nearly silent room.

The bell rang. Students went back to their class with no hesitation.

Seth spent the rest of the day in the nurse's office.

When Seth woke up back at his house, the words came back up in his head and he fell asleep whispering, "Please, never quote Justin Bieber ever again…"


	2. Randomness No 2

Sorry it took so long! I lost my flash-drive. Hope you like it! (The story, I mean.)

Feel free to comment or request something! Free for both! J

Seth has glasses in this for some reason. I don't know, I just wanted to write it!

I 'changed' some stuff, hope you guys are OK with them. Plus, Kendra is a senior and Seth is a sophomore. He plays baseball or basketball—probably basketball… Anyway—enjoy!

Randomness #2—Magical Brooms are Evil

The crisp fall air tore at the trees, ripping leaves off frail, dying branches and splattering the dead remains all over the ground, reds, golds, oranges and dead greens spluttering all over like bloody stains across the school's courtyard and grounds. The parking lot was riddled with litter and stains from fast food drinks. Cars still interrupted the view of the jagged mountains a few fifty or so miles from where the school sat, the brown-brick and cement pillars getting more damaged and eroded by the day. The high school had looked better… before the students came.

The school day had long since ended—a few hours ago, at least, and it was getting to be dark, but it wasn't quite there yet. The sun hung closer to the west side of the mountains.

Kendra had only ever dealt with one witch before—it was Muriel Taggart—but there were a few other creatures that had twice as much bite as the witch Taggart did. And she was facing one right now. The other girl's curious face stared at her, looking somewhat menacing, but that didn't change how Kendra felt about her.

They were outside the school, the cold wind biting at Kendra's face.

"What do you want?" she asked the witch, fear edging its way into her voice. What was that doing there? She had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Where on earth was Seth? He was supposed to be there by now. He could take care of the witch—what with his ever flaunted new abilities and all.

"I want to make you pay for what you did to Muriel Taggart," the witch responded angrily. At that moment, Seth burst out of the doors, the dead schoolyard around them mostly silent except for the soft yet harsh wind on their face. Was the witch causing that?

Seth put his hands on his knees, heaving and coughing. Putting his hand up to his mouth, he cleared his throat, pushed his hood off, and glanced up at the two girls. He took a long look at the girl, and looked back at his sister.

Pushing his glasses up, he asked, "Sis, what're you doing?"

Kendra glared at the other girl, trying to look menacing but having it look more like she was a little kid, dwarfed next to her giant, six-foot-three, thin-as-a-stick kid brother. "Trying to look menacing, what does it look like?"

Kendra saw Seth glance at the witch, who was turning bright red, holding her hand in front of her face in a fist, her mouth quivering. The edges of her lips would contort and wiggle like a worm having a seizure. The witch, wearing a short, black, pleated skirt with thigh-high, black stockings, a pitch-black vest, pure white button up with sleeves that went about a third of the way to her wrists from her elbows, and a short dark green and yellow striped tie—thick green stripes with yellow strips about the width of a typical no. 2 pencil-, topped with a pitch-black witches hat. She was holding a short brown-handled broomstick with bright-yellow hay at the back.

All that Kendra wore was a dark blue jacket, a bright red beanie with a banana-yellow smiley-face sticker on it, a messenger bag with several dozen different sizes of buttons strewn across it like the night sky, the bag in particular a dark blue bag with the words "It's Bigger on the Inside" stitched across. The buttons showed several different TV shows and other things—"Moriarty is Real," "#Sherlock Lives," "Go Rory Williams," "I Ship Malec," "Augustus Waters is Hot," etc.—, the strap thrown across her right shoulder, leading down to her left hip, where the chunk of homework-stashing-fabric rested. She wore khaki capris despite the cold—the stupid forecast hadn't said anything about _freezing winds_—and a dark blue shirt with the words, "My Ship is Bigger than Yours" written in clothe-paint. Her long, darkish brown hair spilled across her shoulders

Seth looked more like a normal person—a longish dark-green plaid scarf draped across his broad shoulders, a dark blue denim jacket thrown over a semi-wrinkled shirt reading, "What did you eat for breakfast, 'cuz I can't remember," worn black jeans, black mid-calf socks, pure-black chucks, and a black backpack with a bright red dragon with little orange wings hanging off the back pocket. (Kendra thought the dragon was kind of cute, but Seth liked it because it looked cool. Both were true.) Seth's hair was slightly darker than hers, mostly due to spending more time inside—because of basketball practices. (Her's was due to the fact that she volunteered for The World Should Be Green—after the daycare accident, she wasn't sure about that line of work anymore—and she spent most of her time picking up litter when she wasn't doing massive amounts of AP homework—super-smart indeed.)

The witch smiled. "I don't think it's working, 'Sis.'"

Seth frowned, his eyebrow furrowing. "Don't call my sister that."

The witch smirked. "I can call whomever _whatever_ I want."

"I don't think it works like that…"

Kendra interrupted their decreasingly interesting conversation. "Why do you care what happened to Muriel Taggart?"

"Because she was my _mentor,_ dang it!"

Seth threw his hands up. "How could she be your mentor? FLB is protected by magical force-fields and… other… stuff."

The witch squinted at Seth. "'F…L…B…'?"

Seth gave a sheepish smile. "Fablehaven Loves Bachelors."

The witch stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"Fablehaven loves bachelors. It's because Dale—"

Kendra waved her hand by her brother's chest. "I don't think she cares."

"But—I was trying to explain—"

"Yeah, that doesn't matter right now."

Seth shrugged, his mouth hardening into a line. "OK, princess."

Kendra frowned, but looked back over at the witch. "What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

The witch set the hay-ish part of her broom on the ground. "I wish to compete in the Witching Trials. My opponent shall be you." She pointed at Kendra.

Kendra turned to Seth. "Is she talking about the Salem Witch Trials?"

Seth shrugged, frowning. "Maybe there's an app for that."

The witch's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as the two laughed.

"The first Witching Trial is spontaneous conjuring."

Kendra frowned. "How does this help settle our disputes… if you can even call them that?"

The witch frowned. "It is an old trial method for people that are not worthy to be helped by magical creatures. If you lose, you prove yourself human, and therefore cannot be helped by magical creatures."

"What if you are already being helped by said magical creatures, hypothetically?"

"Then you lose their power and their help."

_Is that true? Guess I'll find out when I lose epically._

"I will go first," the witch continued. She walked to a certain spot, pointed at a cement pillar, closed her eyes, and with about three seconds, a bright orange pumpkin sat on the pillar. She opened her eyes, saw the pumpkin, and clapped. She turned, looking at Kendra. "Now you do the same."

Kendra couldn't 'spontaneously conjure' things! This was going to be impossible and Kendra was going to lose. But she had to trust her abilities. She was half-tempted to ask Seth to help her (since he actually _did_ know what to do in that department, since he'd been 'spontaneously conjuring' black cats in her bedroom for the past nine weeks), but she had to trust in herself, in her abilities and her powers. She walked to where the witch had been, closed her eyes, pointed, and waited. After about a minute of awkward pointing and severe concentration, she heard her brother's surprised inhale. Risking a peek, she opened an eye and saw a huge pumpkin engulfing the cement pillar.

Kendra raised her fist triumphantly in the air, 'raising the roof' with Seth while the witch sat there in stunned silence. She composed herself and risked a glance at Kendra.

"Good, but not good enough."

"_'__Not good enough_?" Seth repeated, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. "How was that not? You conjured baby pumpkin and she conjured the Great Pumpkin Linus is always talking about!"

The witch frowned. "I know not who this Linus person is, but the Witching Trials say that a subject must _restrain_ from using too much of her magical abilities, otherwise she will get _worn out._"

Seth made mocking gibberish noises as they followed the young witch to their next location on the school grounds.

"The second test consists of making a good potion."

"What does the potion have to be able to do? What are the guidelines?" Cheerleader Seth asked earnestly.

"_Spectators should not be on cauldron grounds_," the witch hissed.

Seth backed up, holding his hands out in front of him. "Hold your pretty little panty-hose in a way other than how you are right now, chickadee. You've got a bunch of twists, and I don't need lemon sherbet, OK? Calm down."

When Seth was safely out of 'cauldron grounds,' two books appeared, on in front of Little Miss Snootypants, the other in front of Kendra.

"You can use whatever potion you want from in there. The specified items will appear immediately." The witch sniffed the air, raising her nose to the clouds. "It can't have anything to do with death or manifestations of the devil, though."

Kendra heard Seth fake a cough and mutter something under his breath.

Flipping through the pages, she found recipes on how to make the perfect familiar, how to bring things out of your imagination and into real life, and how to make a death cloud that had nothing to do with bees. Turning to a page near the black, she spotted a recipe on how to make rouge witches disappear. After the pages sitting in that position for several seconds longer than they had before, they conjured up a picnic basket and a test-tube holder filled with everything she would need to concoct the potion.

After nearly slaving over an annoyingly hard potion, Kendra stood up and walked to where the witch was standing with her own potion, in a glass flask, the cork in the witch's hand. Kendra's own potion was in a black, wrought-iron cup, much like the cauldron she had been using to brew the thing in the first place.

"We are to drink them at the same time."

Kendra, tired and weary, nodded. Slurping down the thick, lime green liquid down her throat, she licked her lips, surprised at how lemon-twisty it tasted. It was sweet but somewhat bitter, like lemonade. Rather good lemonade. Maybe she should make witch-away-ing potions more often.

The witch looked like she expected Kendra to fly off into the Land of Oz or Jupiter or something, but when she didn't, the witch was very concerned. Knitting her eyebrows together—something that was becoming very common with her lately—she folded her arms.

"Which potion did you brew?" she asked, looking angry.

"The Witch-Away-ing one," Kendra answered simply.

The witch's eyes went wide. Her frown turned so deep it was like she made her own chasm in her face. "I did the magic luck one. It should have worked."

Seth, who had put his hands behind his head, resting on the ground, piles of leaves underneath him like a mattress, shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they counteracted each other so they didn't work. Or maybe you both got the wrong ingredients or said the wrong incantation or something."

The witch shook her head, a bobble-head caught in an earthquake. "That's impossible. The book _always_ gets the right ingredients."

"What if there's a shortage of something?" Seth asked.

"There's a substitute."

"What if the substitute is gone?"

"That's not possible. There is _always_ a substitute available."

"You made magic luck. What types of things do you need for that? Are the items rarer than the one Kendra made?"

Seth was acting like he'd been in the mediator in millions of dark-monster-related arts-and-crafts things before, and he was taking it surprisingly well… or maybe he really had been the mediator.

The witch huffed. "It is true that her potion has less rare items than mine, but that shouldn't stop the book!"

Seth waved his hand. "Does it matter if it didn't work? Neither of them did."

The witch clutched at her hat, her eyes widening in what appeared to be shock. "This _cannot be happening._" The witch turned on her heel and marched over to Kendra. Taking her by the shoulders, practically screaming in her face, she asked, "_How did you do that?_"

Seth sighed. "Since there is obviously no point in doing this anymore, can we move on to something else? Namely: _going home_?"

The witch twirled and glared at Seth. A though struck her and she laughed. Clapping her hands together, she said with a devilish smile, "For the final test…"

"Broomstick riding?" Seth asked, frowning.

"Why is Seth doing this again?" Kendra asked, somewhat annoyed, from the bleachers. The night was cold, and they were on the still-forest-esque grounds outside the football field.

"Because you are disqualified." The witch gave a satisfied smirk, as if she already knew the outcome of the broomstick race.

"For what?" Seth asked for the seventh time. The witch kept avoiding answering the question.

"The race will begin when I ring the bell."

"What?"

"Three, two, one," she said without stopping.

Seth stared in horror, holding his broomstick between his legs while the witch stood _next_ to the broom. She raised her arm, her hand spread out, palm down, and held the whistle to her face with her left hand, blowing loudly. Seth cringed, and the other broomstick flew off into the dark sky. Seth frowned. If he was going to lose, he could at least figure out how to do it graciously. Trying to kick off the ground like what they did in that weird movie with the kid with the stick. What was it called again?

Kicking off the ground proved nothing put landing on the ground. Deciding that maybe leaning forward would work, he tried, and fell flat on his face. Groaning and sitting up in the mud, Seth looked over at the witch, who was eying him and trying really hard not to laugh. Frowning deeply, he set the broom on the ground, put his hand over it, and shouted, "Up!"

The broomstick proceeded to then hit him in the face at ninety-five miles per hour. Seth almost screamed, clearly in pain, annoyed at the fact that he couldn't get the broom to work right. "How are you doing this?"

The witch put a hand over her mouth, trying really hard not to laugh at the silly human boy in front of her. Obviously he didn't know how to use his powers yet, or the full extent of them, at least.

Frowning more at the witch's silence, darkness shot out of Seth's hand toward the broomstick. It shot forward, dragging Seth with it, even faster than the witch's broom had gone.

By the time the witch's broom got back, Seth had been around the world twice, and might have gone through some wormholes into alternate dimensions. He wasn't completely sure. It was just like some weird crazy rollercoaster ride that he had never wanted to go on.

The witch's eyes were wide and surprised. Her broomstick arrived nearly fifty minutes after Seth got back, and she had left without a word. Seth's little passage only took about… five minutes?

Exhausted, tired, and sleep-deprived, Kendra drove the both of them back home, the dark, chilly air wrapped like a shroud around Seth. Whatever he did, he couldn't shake the cold. His skin erupted in shivers, and he couldn't shake the things he had seen in the dimensions he had seen. Demon realms, he realized. That's what they were.

Whatever. He would deal with them when he went to sleep.

Later. If he went to sleep at all.


	3. Randomness No 3

Fablehaven Randomness #3

Seth was wearing his ashen-black tux, with shiny black shoes, a pitch-black bowtie, and a pale blue flower clipped to his lapel, his six-foot-two skinny frame almost dwarfing his date. She was five-four, but she looked like she could be taller. The black high-heels helped the idea. She wore a sleeveless pale blue dress that slowly faded into pitch-black. She wore a bracelet of pale-blue flowers on her right wrist, her hair held up with bobby-pins and hairspray that smelled like roses. She had blush and lipstick that was a shade darker than her natural lip-color. The close-fitting dress fit her snugly, her slim body poking out in all the right places. She had a pale-blue jacket with navy blue on the lapels, with white on the breast pockets. She had a few snowflake pins, and some of her hair was coming loose.

Seth wanted to pull the pins out and watch her beautiful chocolate-colored hair slide to its place at her shoulders where it always was. He loved her hair like that. Seeing it up was… odd, but she looked… better than beautiful. More than beautiful. She looked… Magical.

It was the Winter Formal, and everyone was dressed up like it was the Prom. She had never been to the Prom—to any dance, really—and she was nervous. She was fidgeting with the lightly frosted flowers on her arm and her dress, braided into her hair. She was wearing dark blue eye shadow, mascara, and liquid eyeliner that she had successfully made look wonderful.

But she looked hotter without the makeup on. Her nose wrinkled and her freshly tweezed eyebrows drew together—he didn't understand how girls did that. Was it like some type of hazing ritual or something? She shivered, and he took off his coat, showing off his royal blue vest with turquoise snowflakes, and wrapped her up in the jacket.

"Think they'll have any slow songs?" she asked in the dimly-lit room. Loud dance music blue through the speakers. She hated the fact that she could never dance to any "new song" the radio played—she never new what to do. She liked oldies music—Styx, Credence Clearwater Revival, stuff like that. But she did like OneRepublic, Linkin Park, and _some_ Lady Gaga songs (she still couldn't get over the meat dress, and laughed every time she thought of it. "Do you think they can make bacon out of it now? It's been contaminated.")

"Do you wanna be a wallflower for the moment?" Seth asked her, gesturing over to the wall. She looked at him sadly; obviously pained that she took away from his fun.

"Are you sure?" she mouthed over the loud music.

Seth nodded. "I'm sure. I'll even join you. These people are killing my feet."

She laughed. She had been so bad at even the slow dance that he had stepped on his feet half a dozen times before he said that she should try backing away rather than getting up close. But she had ended up close anyway, and even touching faces at one point—cheeks, though. Nothing too serious.

Taking his offered hand and even allowing him to kiss it, Chelsea followed Seth over to the bleachers and waited while Seth got some punch and cookies. Kendra had allowed Seth and Chels to wonder about freely, but they had to be well in the range of a chaperone, otherwise she was taking both of the sophomores out before they could say collage. Or something like that.

Seth came back with chocolate chip, sugar, and peanut butter cookies, three of each, and two plastic cups of punch, one a deep red, the other a deep blue. Chels took the deep blue one.

"What is this, blue raspberry?"

"Yeah. I told them my _girlfriend_ has a reputation for bad things to happen when she sees red, and that's why I never take her to the Fall Formal."

Chelsea laughed. "What'd they say to that?"

"They said they have a Spring Formal and you can come anytime you want, so long as you don't come to the fall one."

"There isn't a Fall Formal. They're can't be."

"I think they meant at a different school, but I'm not sure."

"I'm your _girlfriend,_ now, huh?"

"Chels, you are the most brilliant person I have ever met and I mean that when you don't have weird powdery pastes and stuff all over your face. Your personality brings out the best of yourself, and you don't need makeup to do that."

Chelsea blushed considerably, and smiled. Leaning forward, she snuck him a kiss on the cheek, and seemed to forget her lipstick. She saw the print, and looked startled. "Oh, Seth! I got lipstick on your face!"

Seth smiled. "It's OK, Chels. It'll come off."

"Yeah, just like that smirk on your face when you realize you're dancing with my girl," a gruff voice said. Looking over at the person who spoke, Seth realized who it was before he even had to speak. It was Devin Jones, a football linebacker or something who thought that every good-looking girl was his to do with as he pleased. _The idiot._

"What are you talking about, nimrod?" Seth asked, glaring menacingly at him.

"I said, you're dancing with my girl."

Chels frowned. "I would never be _your girl_, you _calamitous freak._"

Seth's chest swelled up with pride. She was smart, hot, and great with getting those idiot bullies to leave them alone. "Yeah, Jones, leave us alone."

"Why? So you two can make out under the Chester Tree out in the courtyard?"

The Chester Tree was named after a guy named Chester Nutwell (nice name, isn't it?) that got tragically rejected by a girl that he was best friends with and he had taken it to the next level. She didn't want to. The Chester Tree was reserved for people that wanted to break up—and be rather public about it.

"We want to be alone so we don't have to see your sordid face," Chels answered.

"_Sordid_?" Devin screeched. "_Sordid_? Is this being filmed?"

"That's _candid_ camera, you twit," Seth almost shouted. His voice boomed a little over the music. Chelsea grabbed Seth's arm and held it tightly. Seth got the message: _don't give in._ But getting the message didn't mean he had to listen. Glaring menacingly at his archnemisis, Seth took a step forward, and without thinking, a spark of black electricity shot across the space between them, making Devin fly up in the air, twirling like a ballerina's pirouettes, flipping him upside down and smacking his rear right in the punch.

Seth was so surprised at what happened that he didn't realize another spark of midnight-black electricity twisted itself from his hands and overflowed the electricity so much the already dim room went black. The emergency lights didn't even turn on.

Adrenaline kicking in, Seth gently grabbed Chelsea's hand and pulled her out of the main gym. A flood of students stood there in the gym in some sort of mass hysteria and confusion. It took about half an hour to get the lights back on.

Seth and Chelsea sneaked outside, Seth wanting to get a breath of fresh air, Chelsea just wanting to get some cool air from the heat of the over-cramped gym.

Looking around at the cement benches, it took the two a second to figure out they were in the courtyard. Looking over at a lonely tree on the side of the courtyard furthest from the gym, Seth led Chelsea over to it, and sat her down. She put her head down on his, and looked up at the tree. It was a silver maple, all broken down and dead from the winter. The snow had been cleared off the cement bench, but some was still there. While in the process of getting out of the gym, Seth had grabbed Chelsea's jacket. Putting his own suit jacket on the bench and making sure Chels was warm, he sat her down on the jacket and took his spot next to her. He put an arm around her, his cold hand brushing her shoulder. Her jacket felt soft. It _was_ pure cotton, soft and pale blue on the moon light. Pulling a pin from her stubborn hair, she looked up at him, wonderment and confusion evident in her eyes.

Seth blushed. "You look better with your hair down."

Chelsea blushed, a tiny splatter of freckles showing. But someone had to be really close to see any of them. Especially in this light. _Really_ close.

Seth pulled out a few more pins, and Chelsea let down her chocolate hair. She pulled on his tie, fiddling with his collar until Seth couldn't stand it.

He pulled her in, bracing her for a kiss. He stopped, pulling away when she flinched. But she pulled him back… and they were lost in each other's warmth…

Kendra, in her light grey and dark blue flowy dress, watched as Seth and his date snuck out of the gym. Where were they going? What were they doing? They were never going to be able to go on a second date at this rate! What would she tell Mom? What would she tell _Dad_?

Pulling away from Albert, she started toward the door. Al caught her at the wrist, surprised he had actually caught his date. In this darkness, it could be anyone. "Where are you going, Kendra?"

"To get my little brother."

"Aw, come on, Ken. Just let him be. For tonight."

"I can't let him be. It's like I can't leave him alone for one minute, lest something goes wrong."

Al smiled. "Seth won't do anything wrong. He's a good guy. Give him a chance."

"I gave him a chance at the seventh grade dance, and look how that turned out."

"Kendra."

"What? All he wanted to do was leave. He thought it was boring. And his date—oh… Don't even get me _started_ on his _date_."

Albert gave his semi-sad smile again, pulling her closer toward the light box. "Don't you think you're a little too controlling? He's your _little brother._ Of course he's going to make mistakes. What do you think lives are for?"

Kendra scowled at him. "Stop taking my brother's side, Albert Jeffries."

He held his hands up like he was being arrested for something he didn't do. "Sorry."

They made it over to the light box and it didn't take long for Al to figure out what was wrong. "Must have blown a fuse." He looked at the ground and noticed the plug was pulled out. "Or somebody is really bad at dancing."

Since Albert was on Stage Crew and loved working with mechanics, he knew a lot about what made things tick. He was very logical, which was what Kendra liked about him, but his odd interest in his brother's affairs scared her a little.

_Seth isn't actually adopted and I'm dating his biological brother, am I? That would be creepy._

After the lights were back on and people stopped screaming, there were a dozen more slow songs until the DJ finally picked a different song. But Kendra and Albert were long gone before the DJ picked it.

Stalking about around the school, Kendra looked around for her brother and didn't find him until they searched the courtyard. Chelsea was lying against his chest, half asleep, and Seth was leaning against the arm of the cement bench, leaning back against it, his eyes half lidded, looking like he was going to fall asleep, too.

Kendra pulled the two of them up, dusted them off in that mother hen way, and marched them back to the car in the parking lot, Albert trailing after them. She had spouted off more than three dozen times that she had wanted to go home, and now they were in the super-crowded parking lot, actually doing it. Albert had been sad at the fact, but he was OK with it. It was Kendra's parents' car, which she was borrowing, but she hadn't wanted to drive, so she'd made Seth do it. The boy that had just barely passed his driver's test the first time.

She made Albert drive home because she didn't want Seth to get them in an accident.

There was radio silence the whole way home. Albert pulled into the drive way, got out, opened Kendra's door, walked her to the door, gave the keys back to her father, and sat at the door, telling Kendra what a night it had been. Her father did _not_ permit kissing. With the way Seth and Chelsea were acting, it was like they were high.

Albert knew it was because they were tired and they had shared their first kiss with somebody they really liked. As in, _very first. _Big night for both of them. And not just kiss-on-the-cheek kind, either. Full-on, lip kiss.

If Kendra found out, she would be pissed.

"So… you didn't like it so much, I imagine."

Kendra shook her head.

Didn't say much in the car, not gonna say much now.

"Sorry it didn't go so well."

Kendra's lips shrugged, and so did her shoulders.

Albert said goodbye, and turned from the door.

"Albert." Her first word since she got back. Albert turned around, fully expecting her to be crying and telling him to never come back, but she was bright red, and she pecked him on the cheek, and slammed the door in his face after he looked up at her after she pulled away, her face getting even redder in the yellow light of the front porch.

Albert's smile widened considerably.

He walked back to the driveway, and realized that Seth and Chelsea were still there… and they were kissing each other again. That kind of drowsy, sloppy kiss where you don't realize what's going on and you don't come up for air until you black out. The way Seth towered over Chelsea made Al feel a little bad for her, but at least Seth was a nice guy.

Al tapped Seth on the shoulder. "We need to get your pretty little lady home, Seth. She needs to go to bed." He paused and looked at Seth. "And so do you."

Seth smiled. "Take her to bed. Right."

"No, Seth, take her home." Al sighed. "All right, I'll be your chaperone."

Seth laughed, and Chelsea giggled. "OK, Mr. Chap-a-rone, sir," she squeaked. She gave a small salute, and Seth smiled, planting a kiss on her cheek. She kissed his cheek back and planted a hickey on his neck. Seth smiled, clearly enjoying it.

"OK, lovebirds. Let's get you home."

After a few more hickeys and about a dozen more kisses, Chelsea was safe in the comfort of her bed, stripped of her dress and jacket and put into bedclothes, courtesy of her mother (who was a little concerned at the sight of the hickeys, but when confronted with Seth's behavior, thought he had drank alcohol but she couldn't smell anything, and she thought he had been using, but there was no puncture wound, and she could find no traces of snorting or scarfing. He was clean. He was just tired… Tired and aroused.

Walking back to Seth's house, he helped him up the stairs while his mom watched, amused by his super-tired behavior and Al's attempts at getting him up the stairs. She got him into bedclothes, Al said good night and Kendra and Seth's Mom bid him goodnight.

But before she closed the door, she asked, "Where did all the hickeys come from?"

"His date."

"Was she acting the same way?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think he'll remember?"

"He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, ma'am. There's no chance either of them will remember."

"Do you think it'll scare him if I say it's an STD or something?"

Albert laughed. "You're cruel."

Seth's mom laughed. "Sometimes it's good to lie, don't you think?"


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry it took so long, but Kendra and Bracken (Kracken? Do they have a ship name?) don't appear much in this squiggle/ randomness/ whatever you wanna call it.

Randomness #4

Seth felt sick. It was the Saturday after the dance, and he felt terrible. It was like he had something stuck in his throat and it wasn't going to come out until he threw up twelve—now thirteen—times in the toilet. It had started three hours after he had gone to bed. His stomach had gotten severely upset, and he'd been so _ugh_ and muffled _blurg_ that he'd had to go to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet at the same time. It hurt coming up, and half the time he thought what should be going out on the downside was going flipside and going out that way, which freaked him out even more… which may have been the thing that caused him to throw up the… now fourteenth time.

He was still in the bathroom, on the second floor. It was beginning to feel like he was going to flood the septic tank or the sewer or whatever they used.

Was that trash bag double-bagged? 'Cuz if it wasn't, he was going to claim it and wash it out in the morning.

Crap. It was starting to overflow. Do I put it in the trash outside or keep it in here? No, better put it outside. But what it the bag explodes? Put it in a bigger bag and make sure that one doesn't explode. It's not going to if its triple bagged. But it is overflowing. Put it in one of those big white trash bags, tie it up, and put that in a big black trash bag. There. That way nobody knows what it is. But then Mom's going to freak out because I'm wasting plastic.

Heh. Wasting plastic. That would be a first.

He threw up a fifteenth time, some more blood and dinner coming up—the red stuff tasted mysteriously like that gross punch that always tasted like rancid cherries mixed with lima beans or something. Was it blood or was it punch?

He'd seen so much brown and green and orange and red it didn't matter anymore. But his head was starting to hurt, and it was three-o-four in the morning, and he didn't want to do anything. He rested his head against the hard, cool counter, but his head was throbbing like mad and it just hurt to put it somewhere. Maybe the pillow would help.

After triple-bagging—or maybe five-bagging the gross stuff, he'd put it in a large white garbage bag, put that in an even large black grocery bag, put the kitchen garbage in that garbage along with the throw-up garbage bags, and dumped it in the large green garbage bin outside. The black bag had been so large and heavy it was like he was throwing away a human body. It felt more like he had cut out his own internal organs and were throwing them to the dogs, who ate them slowly, like they were some sort of fancy meal.

Plus the gross stuff was sticking out like some kind of head—he'd been so out of it after throwing up fifteen—or was it sixteen?—times that he'd made a face with the plastic and thrown it away.

Good riddance, grossness and garbage. Good riddance.

Seth was a tall guy, a sophomore, who was thin, on the junior soccer team, track team, and volleyball team, had the dark brown hair like his mom, and faint freckles like his dad—they were so faint and sparse that he didn't even consider them 'freckles,' but whatever, it was a parenting thing.

The most awkward thing about that whole event was that a pedestrian—a detective at the local police department—was looking for a man that lived alone, took his trash out late at night, and was tall and thin. Seth was a boy that looked like a man—he was rather tall, but he was still undergoing growth-spurt age-, all the lights in his house were off—sleepy time for everybody else—and he was tall and thin—most people would have to be some variation of that for track and field and soccer, wouldn't they?

_I have the weirdest thoughts at night_, the detective said to himself, not being one that really joined any clubs in high school (except for the 'Macho Club,' but that was completely made up and his friends had somehow gotten alcohol and drugged him with it, so it was a temporary condition; the hangover was the worst, though) except for… oh boy, what was it called again? Baseball. Yeah. Just… Baseball.

Looking left and right, he made a beeline for the trashcan, opened it, and pulled out the large black garbage can. Sniffing it, the man reeled in disgust. How could a man do this to another human being? Time to get the evidence.

But he couldn't do it here. It would make him look suspicious. Hopefully everyone was asleep in their houses. Night-night, everybody.

Carrying a large black plastic bag back to your tiny car and stuffing it in the trunk and trying _not_ to look suspicious—especially it the bag looks like it contains a dead body and it even freaking smells like it—is really hard, especially when people's _front-porch lights are still on and you can't help but trigger them and it's like "Oh, I'm an alarm and I'll just warn the people inside my house that it looks like a burglar is trying to rob somebody else's house" in the middle of the night is just freaking _great.

The detective slammed the door shut, started his car, and sped off, trying to get back to the station as quickly as possible. He found his suspect, and he was going to break this case wide open. And then he realized that he didn't have the keys to the station. Plus it would be locked up and no janitorial staff was going to be there. Great. He had to take the body _back to his house. _

Jenny isn't there. She moved out a week ago. He'll be fine.

Unless another couple decides that they need to use his house for their little make-out sessions. Fire a few warning shots—no, that's a terrible idea. But it's a good purpose. Getting intruders to leave. Should he call the police, too? Would that be too overkill? Nah, he is the police, he should be able to take a few strangers out far and square, neat-o.

Not literally take them out, of course.

He still had to _get home_ of course. He crossed a main street, turned on the first right, turned left at the next light, drove straight for a few blocks, stopped in the middle, and turned right, left, right again, and left into a cul-de-sac.

He pulled out the huge black bag, crunched his face into a look on disgust when he felt what he thought was a face (the five-bagged thing of puke), locked his car and closed the door with his foot, fumbled for his keys and tried holding the bag with one arm—which made that arm really tired really fast (it was his left arm, he opened his door with his right because the knob was on the left side)—turned the knob and let himself in with his foot. He heard kissing in the other room and sighed.

Yes, they had tried. What sort of neighborhood did he live in, the slums?

Too many true crime novels, Rick. Nobody needs this right now. Especially not me.

He set the bag down, when into the other room, flicked on the light, drew his gun and said with his normal authoritative voice, "What are you doing in my house?"

The couple—a skinny man wearing a wife beater, long thin hair covering one dead-fish-eye, dead jeans on his legs, and a lipstick smear on his right cheek. His right, not Ricks' right.

The gal smooching skin particulates off his face was smaller, plumper, and wore a tank top with a plunging neck line that looked like it had been cut with scissors—or maybe the man's fingernails. She had scars by her clavicle and bruises on her neck.

No, those weren't bruises. Those were some nasty hickeys.

Why, why, of all people, did people who wanted to have junk have to break into his house and do it there?

The thin-haired man spoke with a slur. "What do you want?" He had a southern accent, and he pronunciated everything. The woman looked up at Rick with Whiskey eyes, her smeared lipstick and playful manner making her a good playmate for someone who wanted to do naughty things and get away with whatever happened.

The woman would make a drug baby. Better put the case out of it's misery before it gets blown out of the water.

"Didn't I already say?" Rick spat. "I'm tired and I just got home from work and I don't feel like arguing with people who keep breaking into my house just to get aroused and have sex on my carpet. That's the fifth one this week!" Out of sheer anger and lack of sleep, Rick shot the rug, barely missing the little miss's feet by a centimeter, maybe less. The shock of the man actually using a real life gun got them both up and out of their stupor.

"You mean business, sugar, and we don't mean any trouble."

Rick squeezed the trigger and the bullet landed between her toes. Real close to that disgusting foot of hers. Almost took it off. Maybe getting home so late was a bad idea.

"Maybe I should get a dog so he can bite your ! #$% so I don't have to deal with you when I get home."

"What type of dog, a poodle?" the man asked.

"I have a bullet for your third eye, and it sounds real tempting right now."

"Real—"

The bullet grazed the man's head, sending a small river of blood down his face.

"You're serious." The man wiped his head and looked at his hand. "You're ******* serious." The man glanced at the black back in the kitchen. "What the heck is that? Is that a body? Are you a murderer?"

Rick gritted his teeth, anger getting the better of him. "I will be in a second if you don't get out of here."

Blondie-man and Pudge-Pudge left the room. Suddenly Blondie-Man turned back with a skillet and went to slap Rick over the head with it, but Rick was too fast. He shot Blondie square in the third eye and sighed, shoulders drooping. Pudge screamed, and Rick socked her in the temple, watching her crumple to the floor.

"Shut up," he whispered sharply. He walked over to the phone and started dialing. "I hate it when women scream."

After alerting the dispatcher about what had happened, Rick looked at the contents of the garbage back and was not excited to see the big bag of throw-up. But at least he knew that wasn't the person he was looking for.

The police came and picked up the dead body, got Rick's statement, and carted Pudge off to jail for breaking and entering and prolonged loitering.

Rick smacked his head against the cold table and let out a long sigh.

Tonight had been a long night.

Seth still couldn't sleep, and it wasn't because he had to throw up three more times before he was actually done. He had been confused at where on earth the big black garbage bag had gone, but wasn't going to question it. His head still hurt, and the soft pillows weren't helping. It was now somewhere around three-forty, but it felt like an eternity. He went down stairs were it was cooler, but that didn't help. He went and got some ice and put it on his head. He didn't feel like going back upstairs—his feet were sore—and there was a blanket on the couch, so he figured why not sleep down here tonight?

The firm couch and firm pillows actually helped him go to sleep. They were right in the middle of soft and firm. With his feet warm and his head feeling better, he drifted off to sleep.

Rick pulled off his tie, his collared shirt, his jacket, and his pants, shoes and socks, and lied on his bed, thinking about the third eye he gave Blondie. He might have nightmares, but he'd been so mad about it. He let out a sigh. And smacking Pudge. Had that really been the right thing to do? If he hadn't, she would have left.

He was still too warm, so he pulled off his tank.

Rubbing his face and yawning in the dark, he had one thought before he drifted off to sleep: _I need to shave._

Sorry if you're one of those people that don't like the whole "substitute for swearing" thing, but I don't really swear, and these are _supposed_ to be light-hearted, but it took a weird turn and I'm sorry if you aren't really a person for noir crime shows, but it's like this just turned into one. Sorry. Tell me what you think, any concerns… I suppose there would be a few concerns because most of you were asking about Kendra and Bracken with the last squiggly thing.

Well. It is late at night, and I bid you a good night, but… Sleepy…

Questions… concerns… madness… comments… Philosophical arguments about the dichotomy between good and evil… Any good books you've read recently… Any ideas, wants or needs… Is anyone excited for Dragonwatch? I think one person mentioned that…

Anything that you _really_ want to see for this.

I don't know. Good night. Be good. And don't throw away your crap in big black garbage bags… I'm tired and I should go to bed…


	5. Chapter 5

I am really sorry for not warning you guys about Seth's accident. Very, very sorry. I keep looking at the floor in shame… (The name of the song I'm listening to is even "I'm So Sorry"!)

But you guys kept mentioning KenKen/ BraKendra (I still think Kracken is a good name, but I'm kind of weird*, so yeah…) *an idiot

Warning: Kissing moments. You have been warned. (Yay redundancies.)

Randomness #5

Bracken had been a little annoyed at the fact that Kendra hadn't told him that she had gone to the Winter Formal with some guy named… Crap, what was his name? Albert? Alfred? Alphonse? Something with "Al" in it. But he had said that they should wait until Kendra was older just in case she still felt… mutual. Those awkward moments where they couldn't talk to each other because they didn't know what to say. The huge age gap between the two of them.

He was a _unicorn_ for cripes' sake! Not to mention the fact that she was Fairy kind—technically like him, a gift from his mother, the Fairy Queen. Would she approve? He had told her about their relationship, and she seemed perfectly fine with them hanging out together, but he wasn't sure about dating status.

He liked her—love was a strong word, reserved for only those that were actually married—"together", whatever phrase people picked. They weren't officially going out.

If that was the case, then he had no right to be mad with her picking a date other than him to go to the Winter Formal. He shouldn't be angry. Bracken frowned and set his head on the desk in front of him, groaning because of the pain.

The room was dark, and the computer screen was on—Bracken knew how to use a computer, sure, but that didn't mean that he liked using them. Really, he should turn the other lights on, but then everybody else in the house would wake up, and he didn't want that.

Great. Kendra already had a date. He hadn't had a date in… quite possibly centuries… It had been a long time. He sighed, not moving his head from the desk. The door creaked open as somebody pulled the door knob.

"Bracken?" a male voice chirped. It wasn't quite mature, it was young. The voice came from a high area, but the voice was masculine. Not quite deep, but not alto. A calm tenor, almost bass but stick in the rift between the two. It wasn't monotone, a slide on the musical side, but the owner of the voice didn't really like to sing.

Seth considered his voice to be somewhat awkward when it came to singing, Bracken remembered, and he doesn't like singing in front of people, but Bracken caught tidbits of Seth singing, sometimes in English, sometimes in whatever language he was currently learning in high school—it could be German, because that's the closest language to the Darker languages, and some monsters actually knew the language. Shadow Charmers typically dubbed it the easiest human language to learn, outside of the Dark tongues. English was a close second. Japanese and French and the other "love languages" were more often learned by fairies and Fairy-kind. (Is that what Kendra was learning? French?)

Bracken popped his head up and turned around in the swivel chair. "Yes, Seth?"

Seth didn't seem at all surprised that Bracken automatically knew who it was addressing the unicorn. "Grandpa and Grandma want to talk to you."

Bracken raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason as to why?"

Seth half-closed his eyes, frowning. He almost started speaking in one of the Darker languages, but stopped himself, surprised. He cleared his throat (phlegm builds up more in a Shadow Charmer's mouth because… well, there were reasons, Bracken was sure, but he didn't really feel like finding out). "Something about the centaurs freaking out about carrot reduction costs or something. I don't know. She wants you to go talk to them."

Translation: Grandpa was already talking about them, talking about Grandma's garden and how they should stop having the fauns, satyrs, whatever, come steal the carrots for them.

"Can't she have you or Kendra go? I'm busy."

Seth smiled. "Doing what, research on who you can legally date because you're a thousand-year-old unicorn with a crush on my big sister?"

"She likes me, doesn't she?" Bracken said defensively.

"She went out with what's-his-face, didn't she?"

"Well, I did tell her that we should wait a while."

"Yeah, and now she's a senior in high school, going to go to collage in less that four months—"

Bracken reeled back a little at that. "What? What do you mean?"

Seth stared at the confused unicorn. "She's graduating early. In March."

"Oh." Bracken's face turned bright red. "Okay. Where is she right now?"

Seth shrugged. He started walking away, but walked backwards back into the frame of the door. "How does Grandma get carrots to grow during the winter?"

Bracken shrugged. "It must have something to do with the fertilizer."

"From the giant cow?"

"You can't get fertilizer from a giant cow, Seth."

Seth frowned. "Just like how you can't get a unicorn to accept the fact that the purest person here has never officially been kissed on the mouth?"

Seth smiled at Bracken's confusion and walked off. Quietly, Bracken said aloud, "Kendra's never been kissed on the mouth?"

Don't feel like writing anymore. Hope you enjoyed/ hated—there will probably be kissing in the next one. (If you hated, don't hestitate to explain why. I'm feeling like crap right now and I can think of reasons why this would suck.) Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

_I am so happy right now!_

Thank you, Guest! (For your request.) Yay. (Rainbows and watermelons…)

(*Hides in a corner* I'm such an idiot)

Randomness #6

Seth frowned at Warren and Dale, sitting up in the front of the truck. They left a few hours before dusk, saying that they 'needed' Seth's 'assistance,' and they needed more food (jam or something?). So here they were, in the truck driving to the store. Seth shifted uncomfortably.

"So… what did you guys 'need' me for?" A harmless question.

Warren, from the driver's seat, glanced back at him and smiled. "Dale, do you want to take this one?" Dale rolled his eyes.

"Getting milk and groceries. Goodness, Seth. What did you think we were gonna do, pick up girls or something?"

Seth frowned at Dale. "Yeah, like I don't know where this is going."

"Where is it going, Mr. Shadow Charmer? Can you use your new-found skills on some girls?"

Dale punched his arm. "Warren!"

Seth's eyebrow furrowed. "Why are you guys acting like Newel and Doren?" He paused. "Did you say—"

Dale waved his hand back at Seth. "It doesn't matter. We probably won't find anybody interesting in the grocery store anyway."

Seth scoffed. "Which town are we going to?"

"We could go to Ravenglass or something."

"'Ravenglass'? That's a real town?"

Warren nodded. "Yeah, it's on the—"

"Warren, watch where you're going!" Warren swerved back into his lane. "What?"

Some stupid driver decided that they didn't want to let you merge over."

Seth sighed, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes, exhausted from the day's work.

Seth opened his eyes as the three pulled into the parking lot and parked up next to the storefront. It was a smaller store, red brick, about three-hundred square feet, three times as long as it was wide, two windows peering out onto the street, one window, a push-to-open with inch-thick glass. Above the windows and the door, the store's name was written in bright neon green. 'Big Strawberry Herbs and Plants,' in easy-on-the-eyes cursive, that was easily decipherable.

"Okay, guys, what are we doing here?" Seth asked, folding his arms.

"Groceries," Dale answered, patting Seth on the back. "What did you think?"

Seth's arms were stone-dead-tired and didn't feel like picking things up, so Dale and Warren picked up carrots, lettuce, cottage cheese (some of the centaurs had a thing for cottage cheese, apparently), and some other things. Seth wiggled his arms around, and glanced out the window. Rain started pouring down in sheets. Seth ha-rumphed.

Warren glanced at Seth when the latter jerked back. "What? What's wrong?"

Seth glanced at the man, as if he was just noticing him. "Uh… I have to go do something. Be right back."

Warren watched as Seth disappeared outside, meandered across the street, and… Warren laughed. This was going to be good.

Seth stepped up to the girl, shivering, already soaked from the freezing rain. He rubbed his arms, and walked up to her, goose-bumps making their way to the top of his skin.

Raising his voice over the storm, he yelled, "Do you need help, Miss?"

The girl in question had managed to walk across the parking lot of the grocery store across the street, and slip and fall, face-planting into a small pile of mud in the grass, by the sidewalk, a yard or so away from the busy street. A car speeding past summoned a tiny tsunami, which rained down upon the two pedestrians. The girl's face got buried in the mud again.

Seth pulled her out and carefully walked her across the parking lot to the store. They entered the store, pulled her up next to a drinking fountain. Seth went into the mens' bathroom, grabbed some paper towels and pressed down the soap, and walked back out. He dapped soap on the girl's face, wetted the paper towel, and washed her face. As Seth carefully wiped off the teenager's face, he realized that she had a rather large gash across her forehead.

_Crap_. He walked back into the mens' room, grabbed more paper towels and more soap, and walked back out, wiping away the rest of the mud, which was starting to dry into dirt.

"It's like a mud-mask," Seth told her, to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," she answered. "What wonders is it going to do for me?"

Seth laughed. She stared. Seth went back to cleaning her face. "Sorry."

"Ow."

"What's wrong?"

"Something hurts. I think it's the soap…"

"It'll disinfect the wound."

"I have a wound?"

"What?" Seth asked. "You didn't know you were bleeding?"

"Bleeding?" the girl screeched, and promptly slumped over, Seth dropping everything and catching her waist before she fell to the ground. Great. He was in a near-deserted store with some girl he barely met, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do. This was wonderful.

Plus Warren and Dale were across the street, probably still getting groceries. They hadn't left without him, had they? He didn't have a cell phone, and… Warren had one, didn't he? But there weren't any phones around here, and he couldn't leave the girl all by herself.

A cashier walked over, intrigued, and when he saw the scar—already clotting—he frowned. "What happened?" he called to Seth.

"She slipped out in the parking lot and fell face-first into some mud and cut her some on something."

"Probably glass or something." The cashier frowned. "There's a drunk that's always out there littering. I think he got arrested the other day for excessive loitering or something."

Seth stopped him before he could say anything else. "Do you have any gaze or band aids or something?" The cashier nodded, and headed off to get them.

He arrived with a first aid kit that still had a price tag on it. He cut it off, opened it, and handed Seth some disinfectant, gaze, and medical tape. Seth placed the square on the girl's face, cut the tape, and placed it on her face and the gauze. After a few minutes, the girl woke up.

"Feeling better?" Seth asked her. She nodded, touching her face.

"What happened?"

"I guess you must be squeamish, because once I mentioned your little dilemma, you fainted."

The girl touched her face again. "Thank you. Seriously. I could have died."

"What do you mean?"

"I have hemophilia."

Seth jerked back. "You _what?_"

"I have—"

"Yeah, I know, you just said, but with that type of… You should…" His voice strained and he fizzled out to silence. The girl gave a weak smile and pecked him on the cheek.

Seth put his own hand on his face.

"Thanks for being my hero. What's your name?"

"Seth," he blurted out, his face turning red.

The girl smiled. "Thank you, Seth, for saving me."

They got up, and started heading toward the door. The cashier cleared his throat. Seth turned back to look at him. The cashier pointed at the giant first-aid box. "You break it, you buy it."

Seth scoffed. "But I didn't break it."

"Yeah, but you still have to buy it."

Seth frowned, but pulled out his wallet. "Okay, how much is it?"

"Thirty-seven, fifty."

Seth nearly fainted.

Warren, Dale, and Seth were back on the road. Seth had said bye to the girl and walked back across the busy street, and now they were heading back to Fablehaven.

Warren, when he saw the huge first aid box, had asked if Seth had gotten into any mishaps helping the girl. Seth whirled when he heard 'helping the girl,' but Warren didn't smile. Seth shook his head, but told him she was a hemophiliac, and that if he hadn't of gotten to her, she might have fainted and suffocated because of the mud.

The thing Seth had been confused about was that the cashier had given him back the tag to the first aid box. Seth held on to it, feeling the hard paper-and-plastic cut into his skin, leaving an impression, but not cutting.

The price was on the front, and the back had nothing on it. He stared at the front, still slightly angry that he had had to pay thirty-seven-fifty for the gigantic box.

Dale turned his head back and looked at Seth, who was still staring at the price. "Are you going to throw that away or just keep staring at it?"

"Keep staring at it," Seth grunted, "because… well, look at the price tag…" He held the front side up to Dale, and saw the blue handwriting on the blank white back.

Written on the back, in large, blue, girly handwriting was _Thanks again for helping me. My brother (the cashier) likes to tease, and honestly, you didn't have to pay for that first aid box, but I guess you might need it, Super Man. Open the box._

Seth opened the box and smiled. A copy of his receipt lie on top of the tube of Neosporin, all clipped together with a paperclip, and on top of that was a piece of paper with the words:

Monica Winston, 555-2860

Call Me, Super-Man!


	7. Chapter 7

Randomness #5, part II

WARNING—Swearing.

Kendra was lying on her bed in the attic—she was technically an adult, the legal age of eighteen—reading a book entitled "The Life and Times of Famous Unicorns," flipping through the pages, trying to find the more 2015 ones rather than the 1820s ones—a whole bucket load of them, and even more in the 1750s. Possibly a garbage dump-truck load of them.

Kendra paused. _Crap. Did I just call a bunch of semi-important unicorns dirty?_

Bracken opened the door, looked around, and went back out. He opened the door, banging it against the wall in surprise, but it bounced off the wall and smacked in him the face, almost sending him down the stairway. "Kendra, what are you doing up here? Where's your brother?"

Kendra's face turned bright red. Trying to hide it, she turned her attention back to the book, trying to appear casual. "He went outside, probably to find Newell and Doren or something. Maybe even the satyr that made that semi-creepy painting of me. Or was it a sculpture?" She shrugged. "It was so long ago I can't remember."

Bracken frowned. _Okay._ This was awkward. "Where do you think he went?"

Was she ignoring him because he told her to go date other people? What was wrong? Had that rubbed her the wrong way and she was mad at him? (What right did she have to be mad at him? He thought to himself, getting angry at nothing.) He stopped, frowning and counting to ten. Kendra broke the silence before he reached eight.

"Is there something else you needed?"

Bracken cleared his throat. "Um, yeah, actually. How old are you now?"

Kendra raised an eyebrow. "I'm eighteen."

Bracken's face turned red, and he tried covering his face with his hands. "Okay. Going out with anyone?"

"Yeah, a guy named Ryan."

"How's that going?"

"Pretty good."

"Seth told me you've never been kissed."

Kendra sat up and glared at Bracken, whose face turned an even brighter red. She was wearing a tank top and sweats—the house was arid and brain-melting, which was semi-weird for the summer. Putting the book in her lap and holding her fingers at page 193, she snapped, "And what does Ghost Boy know about my love life?"

"Ghost boy?" Bracken's eyebrows turned into a squiggle. "_Ghost boy_?"

"Is there something wrong with the nicknames I have for my brother? It's not like he cares about them," Kendra answered, turning back to her book. "Besides, he needs to get a love life of his own before he can start talking about _mine._"

"Yeah, but you still didn't answer my question."

"What 'question'?"

"You've never been kissed."

"That's not a question, Mr. Grammar-Crapper. That's a statement."

"Does it matter?"

"It does in fact matter, sir, Mr. Thousand-Year-Old-Unicorn-I-Can't-Date-Until-I'm-Older."

"Does that really matter to you so much?"

Kendra laughed. "At this point, I'm not going to date you. I've had enough of you already. I can see why your mother sends you outside her queendom instead of letting you inside so you can _terrorize_ the astrals and the fairies…" She paused for a second. "If she's the fairy queen, how the heck are you a _unicorn_?"

"My father," the unicorn seethed.

"Oh, so male fairies are unicorns?"

"Not quite," Bracken answered, teeth clenched.

"What are you clenching your teeth for—got something stuck?"

"No."

"It must be the cat. He's rather hard to swallow."

"I don't get what you mean."

"Goodness your oblivious to everything."

"_What_ does it mean?"

"Have you _never _heard the phrase _cat got your tongue_?"

"One of those stupid human clichés?"

"Go marry a mountain troll, kiss-ass."

"Go eat tar—you've got enough of it in your soul."

"Oh, yeah. I'll bet you've had so many relationships you literally can't count them all."

"Thanks for the warning. Maybe I'll get the ambulance."

"What, so you can get rid of the scars?"

"What scars?"

"The burn scars, dough-boy!"

"Like you're any better!"

"Get out of here before I call the police! Children only!"

"Oh, yeah, because you're _such _a child!"

"You're acting like one, asshole!"

Seth walked up the stairs, a little sunburned from hanging out and playing football with the satyrs and Hugo, his legs and arms a little scratched up, all he wanted to do was go to sleep and avoid fights. He'd had enough of that with Newell and Doren alone. (Hugo didn't say much, other than _HIKE!_). "What's going on?" he asked innocently, confused about why they were arguing.

"_Go downstairs, Seth!"_ they screamed at him.

"How about no?" Seth retorted.

"Just do it," Kendra sneered, poison in her tongue.

Slamming his football on the ground, he shouted," I'M NOT FEELING SO GREAT RIGHT NOW." The room plunged into darkness and the air became something like -20° below zero. Shadows of monsters people had never seen for thousands of years and invoked nightmares when merely _thought_ of flashed across Kendra and Bracken's minds, and the shadows broke the window. The breaking glass brought them back to the real world, and Seth slowly faded the darkness into the light.

"Never do that again," Bracken said, his voice—along with the rest of his body—shaking like a stick hut in an earthquake.

Seth turned to Bracken, his face covered in shadow. "Never tell me what I can and cannot do, _fairy princess._ Now both of you _leave_."

They were shaking so much they practically had seizures down the stairs.

Seth's brain shut down and he landed part way on a bed, but gravity made him slip off and he flopped like a newborn calf onto the ground.

Once the two hate-birds got out the door and tried to forget what they saw for half an hour, they looked one at the other, frowned, and said together, "this isn't working."

Kendra turned away from Bracken and didn't look back until she got to the house.

"And no, curd-face, I have never been kissed."

I feel like I needed to let out some anger, and that's what happened. As usual, feel free to hate, but just remember that it gets better.


	8. Randomness No 8

Warning—Shower scene—doesn't show anything, but shower scene!

I was listening to what has to be some of the most calming music while writing the super-angry scene, and I was thinking about it, and I made me laugh for twenty minutes. (I'm so stupid, I'm sorry.)

Fablehaven Randomness Eight—

Seth's head was against the wet wall, the shower blasting cold water all over him. It felt good, all the ice tensing him up, and he'd slowly pull the lever over to the red, feeling the heat and the rage and the intensity of the fire-water release all that cold. Relax those tense muscles. The steam heated up the room, the mirror, the…

He didn't want to think. He just wanted to… sit there in the silence, the shower running… picking out the shampoo bottle, he poured some into his hand, and smoothed back his hair…

Kendra lay on the bed, her new room on the second floor instead of the fourth—the attic, technically—the blankets wrapped around her snuggly. The alarm for six-fifteen had gone off five minutes ago, but she just wanted to stay right where she was… and sleep.

After the argument with Bracken the other day, she wasn't so sure she ever wanted to go out with him… he probably felt the same way.

She was so angry and dirty and disgusting… but he could be, too. But he was less _revolting_… He was so innocent and graceful and thrived on happiness. It was a surprise he hadn't gone back to his mother and ripped her to shreds. Not literally—she doubted it was possible for something that pure and innocent to act like a malevolent demon.

The blankets were welcome—unlike the poor pillow that had gotten some salt water on it—and wrapped around her like some kind of taco. Fluff-taco. She liked it.

_Bam-bam-bam!_ "Seth?" Outside of her door, she heard Dale call into the bathroom's locked door. "Seth, are you alright?"

"Seth's taking a shower, Dale," Kendra called.

"Yeah, I know, but he's been in there for a while, and it's starting to freak out Gramma. Er—Aunt Ruth. Wait. Warren—"

"Is your brain screwed on tight today, little brother?" Warren did something to Dale, who made an irritated noise—like an angry cat—and pulled away from his brother.

Kendra zoned out and slept for about five minutes before Gramma Ruth walked into the room and nudged her shoulder. "Kendra, wake up."

Kendra moaned, not wanting to move.

"Kendra, get up," Gramma called again. Slowly, Kendra opened her eyes and frowned.

"Whaddya want, Gramma?"

"Somebody's here to see you, Kendra. You'd better get downstairs and into the living room, otherwise your guest will come up here and see to it that you hear whatever he or she has to say."

"You're leaving their gender out for a reason, aren't you?"

Gramma smiled. "Yes, I am. Now get downstairs."

She walked out of the room and into the hall and slammed on the bathroom door. "Seth! Get out of there before the house overflows."

Prying herself out of her bed sheets but keeping some of the heavier blankets, she pulled herself out of her room and tumbled down the stairs, turning into the living room.

And who should be there than Bracken, fairy princess.

Kendra sighed and sat in the couch opposite him. Bracken was smiling, but frowned a little, his face turning slightly sad when she sat across from him. Other than her blankets, she had puffy grey sweats and a purple tank top.

Bracken was more well-dressed than Kendra, with a white dress jacket, white, vaguely sparkly cotton button up, white dress pants, and white dress shoes. It was like he was going to a wedding in luau of the groom—and the bride, according to Seth. Kendra's cheeks flared at the thought, and she gave a smirk.

Bracken raised an eyebrow. He was on the couch closest to the window, and with the blinds and curtains open, he looked handsome in the white sunlight.

Bracken started at the coffee table—lack of any pick-me-ups or take-me-downs available, so there were only crackers and water at this point. Some flowers stood erect in a clear crystal jar, each of them some shadow of pink, red, or violet, one with strands of yellow peeking through. The flowers, obviously, were from him.

"What would you like to talk about, kind sir?" Kendra asked, adopting a faux-British accent. Bracken, surprised at the change, jumped a little.

"I would like to talk to my fair lady, who seems to be away. P'rhaps I should come back at a later time." Bracken went to stand up, but Kendra stopped him.

"Why do you torment her so?"

Bracken stopped, dramatically, as if t'was some kind of European drama. "Torment her? My dearest child, I mean no disrespect when I say that I do not understand—nay, comprehend what lavacious contravities my mistress has told thee." He stopped, pantomiming a cane and a top hat, and said sorrowfully, "But as it stands, she has yet to answer my calls, yearnings, even, and I reckon she figures this injustice upon my head, and will not part with any of her contemporary philosophies, as she watches so many operas and must fantasize about me dropping her…" Bracken came a little closer to Miss Sorenson, and stopped not one foot from her door. "I must speak with her. T'is a matter of utmost importance and I wish to speak with her, though t'is doubt with which clouds this foggy mind. She must fantasize about me dropping her so easily, courting another fare, but least I should pay hers respects before I nay even think about dropping her…"

Kendra got a little closer to Bracken and whispered, "Master, thy mistress bid thee enter her chambers, lest she come and bribe you with candy."

Bracken titled his head in confusion, starting to say, "Bribe me with—"

But was cut off when said person pulled his face close to hers and cut off the air supply pipe-line betwixt his nose and chin. Kendra pulled away for a moment and whispered, "Lavacious contravities? They do condemn me so…"

Pulling the unicorn down into her bed sheets, they shared another soul-warming kiss and snuggled, Kendra's head on Bracken's shoulder and his head on hers.

The romantic moment was ruined by a wave of hot water and black sludge flooding the stairwell and gushing out the side door of the house. Bracken and Kendra turned their heads and watched as all the water failed to disburse and kept chugging out the door. The water rose into the sky and broke apart, a fine mist enveloping the area and making everything look even better.

The black sludge hardened into something akin to firewood and dropped to the ground.

Nothing in the house was soaked—except maybe the boy marching down the stairs, almost exhausted. He was wearing slightly tight-fitting jeans and a slightly baggy shirt, pure black, water slowly dripping out of his hair. He pulled a hand through it, pulling up his bangs, inspecting his work. His black Chucks poked out from his jeans—which looked black in the light, making him look Skater-Boy or Goth-Boy-esque. Turning, he noticed Bracken and Kendra, and his eyes widened. He pulled his hand down from his face and scrunched up his mouth into an awkward line, his dry hair sploofing for a moment, then hanging in front of his face.

The line twisted into a smile. "Hey, Kendra. Bracken." A nod to the unicorn. "How are things?"

Bracken stared, concerned. "No more 'fairy princess'?"

Seth shook his head. "Yeah, no. Sorry about that. I was… Not feeling so great." He put a hand to his mouth, choking back something. Clearing his throat.

Bracken and Kendra raised a suspicious eyebrow in unison.

Seth raised his hands in front of him. "I'm feeling a lot better now, I promise."

"What's up with the floating water?" Kendra's inflections made sure Seth understood that Gramma and Granpa were going to hear about it.

"Um, it's a trick I learned from Nero. Keeps everything nice and… you know, non-wet."

"Uh-huh." Like she believed him. "More _shadow charmer sorcery_, eh?" She waved her arms around a little wildly. She leaned over and put her head on Bracken's lap, her feet rising into the air.

"Well, yeah. If you want to call it—" Seth imitated Kendra's bizarre hand movements—"_sorcery_, then sure."

A black and grey cat thumped down the stairs, it's yellow eyes angry, it's hair thick—American long-hair or something—it's tail fluffy. It rubbed against Seth, then padded over to what could have been a food bowl. Kendra closed her eyes. _We don't have a cat_.

"Hey, Warren," Seth said nonchalantly, and then jumped, realizing what happened.

Bracken raised an eyebrow, confused. "New?" he asked, pointing toward the direction the cat had taken.

Seth smiled, a little too broadly. "Nah, it's been here for a while."

Bracken frowned and shrugged. "Hairy cat."

"Yeah," Seth replied. "Hairy baby…" He was slipping again. "Hairy baby cat. Heh." Awkward smile. "We don't need to—" A breaking noise—"I need to go fix the cat. Don't wait up. Or anything. 'Cuz, you know, you don't… really… you know, _need_ to or anything. Yeah, I'mma go fix the cat now."

Kendra and Bracken curled together and snuggled while Seth took the cat outside and scolded him for being stupid and breaking into the bathroom at a bad time. Gradually, after a few days, Warren came out of Cat State and scolded Seth for turning him into a cat.

Dale laughed at the whole thing, but was still rather glad he had his brother back.


	9. Randomness 9

I told my buddy that I would write and now my computer hates me (the internet froze) so this is happening. Enjoy and tell me what you think.

RANDOMNESS #9

Seth sat at the key board, staring at the black document page. Something started blaring—his alarm clock? He turned and looked at the clock, his face pale and sleep deprived. He had black bags under his eyes and bloodshot eyes. He got up, prying the green bathrobe off his back, and threw it at the laundry basket, missing it completely. He padded the five feet over to his alarm clock, pressed the button—oddly disappointing because he couldn't slap it without the stupid thing breaking and going off at all hours of the night. Kendra, being a light sleeper—as to keep her blabbing skills to the max—would get pissed if he broke it, so he refrained.

He wanted to break it. Get a new one.

But he was up in the middle of the night, staring at his computer screen because he couldn't sleep… or because he had an assignment that was due tomorrow. Crappy school system redux should die; drown in a pool of mayonnaise. Something that involved him not having to come back.

Yay, it was junior year and the freak blab Kendra was no longer to be found hanging around after school trying to keep him out of trouble and out of fights and crap—like that _never_ happened—she told the principle and his councilor about his awesome insomniac problems.

It didn't help the fact that he had freakish _nightmares_ that Lady I'm-a-freaking-A-and-don't-need-no-nightmares couldn't _get freaking nightmares because she was a monster in disguise_, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Graulas, the wraiths.

Why was he getting nightmares now? That had happened, what, last year? He was almost a senior. Okay, four months away from being a senior. Junior year.

His biggest plan caused by his insomnia was to blow up the school. When Sephora, his almost-kind-of-maybe-girlfriend, or at least the one friend that wasn't a guy, heard his plans to blow up the school, she asked why not just set fire to the lunch room and grease-fire the toilets?

Seth had nodded and agreed to it, but instead of getting out the matches, he fell asleep in class for the first time. In around a month.

Insomnia didn't come without its nightmares.


End file.
